Crossed Wires
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: Myrnin gets drunk. In Oliver's flat. What happens when our favourite scientist gets it in his head that Oliver isn't Oliver... that he 's COOL! Would a kiss go amiss in this situation? Humourous! Please R&R!


**Written for Tipsy14 who specifically asked for this! Still, read on if you like Oliver, Myrnin and a **very** humourous situation!**

**I own nothing...**

**

* * *

**

Myrnin tilts the fourteenth bottle of beer in three hours upright, as to drain the last few drops of alcohol inside. Not, he reflects, the same punch as human blood but it's pretty damned tasty!

He stands up slowly and realises that the multitude of beer, vodka (three litre bottles) and the two hundred year old malt whiskey he found in the back of the cupboard have made him a little unsteady. He looks around - _where am I? _He thinks slowly, following his scent around the room... It suddenly stops at a wall. Hmmm, how quaint.

_Perhaps I've managed to master walking through walls, _he muses, before realising that thinking makes his head hurt. With this realisation, he sways back towards the sofa and flops down on it. _Maybe one more... What harm could it do? _So his hand reaches out into the box of beers on the side of the sofa - brown corduroy... Nothing like his cool white sofa - and pops out a can of lager. Not his usual brand, yet another inkling that this isn't his house, but it's alcohol and tastes good so what does it matter?

Contented, Myrnin leans back in the reclining sofa (ooohh, fancy!) and pops the ring pull at the top open, letting out a smell of hops... Delicious!

He takes a huge sip and smiles as the booze spreads around his already intoxicated body. _Still, most people I know think I'm like this anyway, so who cares if they see me pissed out of my tree? _He closes his eyes and dreams of his perfect woman: curvaceous and sexy, of course... Alluring eyes, a set of delicate lips and the most important thing - a neck so pure that it would be _heaven _to drink from her.

But what about the person who owns this flat, house... Wherever Myrnin is? _They _seem pretty cool: they got some beer, a cool enough sofa and a flat screen TV with the latest video games. No matter WHO it is, Myrnin's pretty damn sure he could kiss the owner.

_When they come home, I'll kiss them... To thank them for their hospitality, of course!_

With this decision in mind, Myrnin drifts off to sleep as he waits for the owner to return. _Mmm, I hope it's that girl from down the street - Georgia!_

OoOoOo

"What are you DOING here, you psychotic, simpering, idiotic BABOON!" Oliver yells as he sees a deathly sight before his eyes. Myrnin, Myrnin the town retard, is sat on _his _sofa, drinking _his _beer, in a state of comatose. Even the absolute roar Oliver produces doesn't wake the lab rat up - it is a time for desperate measures to be put into action!

He creeps up behind Myrnin and places one hand on either side of his head. Then he claps his hands into Myrnin's head so hard that the skull actually fractures slightly. _This _wakes Myrnin up, him slurring and muttering incoherently as he processes what's going on. The skull heals rather quickly and within a few seconds, Myrnin is already standing up and looking for his adversary.

"My friend!" he slurs, but Oliver doesn't recognise that he is drunk. All he sees is the bumbling idiot he has had to put up with for FAR too long of his life. "God bless ye, fellah, for thee's artful hospitalitee!" he begins to drawl on certain words and uses language much more frequent in the middle ages not entirely correctly.

"Myrnin, why on earth are you in my home?" Oliver asks, his patience entirely eradicated. He wants this man out - now.

Yet Myrnin remembers his promise to himself.

_Whoever this is, I don't know... They have pretty rubbish fashion sense, but they've gave me some of the best alcohol of my life so they deserve a kiss!_

With this, he moves as fast as he can around the sofa and plants a fully blown kiss on Oliver's unsuspecting and frozen lips. What the _hell_ is Myrnin doing?, Oliver asks himself. He tries to fight him off, but the older vampire clings on for dear life as if…as if he _loves_ Oliver. Now, the sane, moody old sod of a vampire knows that that isn't the case – they hate each other, for christ's sake – but **what has gotten into Myrnin?**

_Why this feels ni-_ Myrnin begins to think before his brain (yes, Myrnin has a brain… it may have been addled by the few hundred units of alcohol he added to his body, but it still exists!) processes the identity of the person he is kissing. _Why the hell is Oliver kissing me?_

Myrnin pulls away suddenly and runs to the opposite side of the room, wondering _why_ he is in Oliver's flat. It's so… **Oliver**! The brown corduroy sofa is hideous, the beer is mediocre at best and the TV… wait, that isn't too bad – is that _C.O.D?_

"Why were you kissing me?" Myrnin demands of Oliver, thinking that it was the tie-dye loving vampire that kissed him, not the other way around.

Oliver splutters as he wipes off every remnant of Myrnin's saliva from his mouth (that is _one_ saliva-y vampire!) before answering. "Fool! It was you who kissed _me_! Not the other way around… you broke into my flat, drank my beer… and oh my god, put it away now! I think I need to get some new eyes – _who have you been thinking about_?" he says, noticing something he _really_ wishes he hadn't seen on Myrnin… EWWWW!

"I think I would know if I kissed you," Myrnin says haughtily, firmly believing that it was _Oliver_ who started the kiss, not him. "Oliver, I hate to break it to you, but I'm not gay. However, I am pretty sure that the young Glass boy has a slight tendency towards men, so why don't you try him?" Myrnin smiles sweetly, watching how Oliver's face darkens: almost murderous is his new facial expression.

"Why you runt!" Oliver spits, unable to form the words he _really_ wants to say. He chases Myrnin around the sofa, trying to catch the vampire who kissed **him**, then tried to call **him** gay… he has that backwards slightly.

"Really, _must_ you continue on with such antics with a crowd watching?" Amelie's cool voice comes from the portal, where she and Claire loiter. The latter looks so amused and stricken at the same time, she may as well suffer from a split personality disorder, given both expressions are entirely readable on her face!

_Oh shit_, Myrnin thinks… _Amelie thinks I'm gay!_

**That blasted fool**, Oliver thinks, **he's gone and made me look gay!**

**

* * *

**

**What did you think? I laughed when I wrote it!**

**Please review!**

**Vicky xx**


End file.
